End of Laughter
by Agent Ninety-Nine
Summary: When her best friend Simba is killed by a stampede of wildebeest, the lioness cub Nala takes it hard. Everyone tries to help her through her grief, but it looks as though she is losing the will to live...


**_This is the end, beautiful friend.  
This is the end, my only friend, the end.  
Of our elaborate plans - the end.  
Of everything that stands - the end.  
No safety or surprise - the end.  
I'll never look into your eyes again._**

The pale-coated lioness cub scampered through the short grass so swiftly that her mother, though her legs were longer, had difficulty keeping up with her wild bounces. 

"Gently, Nala, gently!" she remonstrated, laughing. 

"Oh boy, I really showed that dik-dik, huh Mom?" Nala was not listening. "Just a little closer and it would've been - pow! Lights out!" 

Although the cub was far too young to go after game with the pride, her mother had treated her to a private hunting lesson and was proud of the way Nala had handled herself. 

"I can't wait to tell Simba!" the cub continued. The lioness, Sarafina, looked guilty. "Darling, you know you're not supposed to be hunting yet. I thought we agreed this trip was to be our little secret?" 

"But just Simba? Please, Mom? He's my best friend - and he'll be _soooo_ jealous!" Nala added, her eyes glinting wickedly. 

"Very well, then," Sarafina smiled. "I suppose it's hopeless trying to keep you two apart." 

She was glad that her daughter had such a good relationship with the son of King Mufasa. All the pride knew that they were expected to marry when they reached adulthood, and their firm friendship would make it so much easier. Sarafina was thrilled that Nala had been chosen as the prince's bride and privately thought that she was more than a match for young Simba. 

Nala prattled on as they made the climb up to their home, Pride Rock. "And after dinner I'm gonna show Simba where I nearly caught the deer, and then we're going down to the lake to watch the flamingos land. And tomorrow - " 

"Hush!" said her mother, in such a strange voice that the irrepressible Nala was silenced instantly. Her ears drooped; what had she done wrong? Then she saw the rest of the pride, her aunts and cousins, grouped in a circle around the tip of the towering rock - the position they took up when there was important news to tell. But the speaker in the middle was not their mighty king, Mufasa, but his younger brother: Scar. 

Sarafina and Nala hurried to the edge of the group and lay down with the rest. Nala couldn't see Simba or his dad anywhere, but she spotted his mother Sarabi at Scar's side. Her expression was one of shock and grief; her mouth was slightly open, her eyes were wide, and a single tear dribbled down her cheek. Nala felt her stomach lurch, and she pressed close to her mother. 

"...So it is with a heavy heart that I assume the throne. Yet, out of the ashes of this tragedy, we shall rise to greet the dawning of a new era..." Scar was saying. For the first time, Nala noticed the gang of hyaenas slipping from the shadows to take their places at the dark lion's side. 

"What hap-" she began, but Sarafina's soft paw enveloped her and pressed her down. His speech done, Scar descended from his perch surrounded by a phalanx of hyaenas. The lionesses drew back as he passed. 

Nala struggled free, hooking her claws into her mother's foreleg. "Please, someone tell me what happened?" she begged. "Where's Simba?" 

The lionesses looked at one another doubtfully. Nala knew the look - it was the 'are they old enough to know?' expression that always made her and Simba mad at the grown-ups. 

Sarafina laid a paw protectively on her daughter's head. "Tell us," she said sadly. "Tell us both." 

Sarabi walked over to them, looking like a ghost. She seemed to have aged years since Nala saw her earlier that day, her flanks and eye-sockets hollow. The queen lay down so her face was level with the small cub. 

"Nala, my honey. I'm so sorry. The wildebeest stampeded in the gorge. Mufasa was down there, and..." (she closed her eyes briefly as a shudder ran along her shoulders and back) "so was Simba." 

"Is he badly hurt?" Nala asked anxiously. Sarafina folded her daughter to her chest. "Darling, he's dead." 

Dead. The word sent a cold shock through Nala, as though she had plunged into the waterhole on a hot day. Cubs like her didn't die. Old lions died; new cubs were born dead and sometimes their mother died too. This Nala accepted. But Simba...her friend...no. 

Sarabi led the sorrowful procession to the gorge. They didn't want Nala to come, she could tell, but she would not be left alone. She couldn't believe that it wasn't all a horrible joke; at any moment she expected Simba to pounce her from behind a rock with a cheerful cry of "Fooled ya!" 

The body lying in the dust was so trampled and dusty it was barely recognisable as a lion. But Sarabi licked the still, cold muzzle until Mufasa's face was clean of blood and dirt and his fierce, noble expression revealed. His eyes were closed and his tongue protruded between his large white teeth. The body had already stiffened. 

Nala felt the hair along her spine stand on end. Mufasa had been a regal lion but a jolly one too, full of life. He always had a kind word for the cheeky little cub who played with his son. To see him like this was too much for the young lioness. Grimacing, she turned aside and was sick. 

Frightened and ashamed, she whimpered as her mother cleaned her. "It's all right, darling. It's perfectly natural. And nobody was looking at you," Sarafina reassured. The memory of what they _were_ looking it hit Nala as another wave of nausea, and she gave a dry retch. She pictured her friend's body as his father's was, battered and ripped, and squeezed her eyes shut - but the image would not go away. Burying her head in her mother's chest, she pleaded "Mom, take me home. I don't want to see Simba." 

"Ssh...we couldn't find him. He was so small, he must have been...oh, my precious!" The sudden death of the prince had brought home to Sarafina how fragile a young life is, and she was almost crushed by the love and anxiety she felt for her own little one. As though Nala had been a newborn, Sarafina lifted her by the scruff of her neck and carried her gently to bed. 

The night passed slowly. Lionesses lay awake, gazing at the sky, or wept themselves into an exhausted sleep at last. Small groups gathered and spoke in low, fearful murmurs of what Scar's reign might portend for the pride. Everyone was aware of the huge empty space that Mufasa had occupied at his mate's side, and avoided that area of the den as though it were haunted. Sarabi sat by herself, looking naked without the presence of her husband and the small form of her cub curled tightly next to her. 

For Nala it was strange and frightening to see the adults at such a loss. She and Simba had always trusted their parents to know everything, to take charge in any situation. The knowledge that grown-ups can be vulnerable too, the sight of tears from an adult and the helpless, uncertain shifting and milling of the pride had as great an effect on Nala as her friend's death. Nobody realised it, least of all herself, but Nala became a lioness that night. 

Gradually the rhythm of life resumed and the pride went about its business of hunting and patrolling. But not Nala. Too old to need nursing and too young to go after the herds with her family, the hours she would have spent playing and wrestling with Simba stretched lone and empty before her. 

Before - in her old life, as she now thought of it - the days had seemed too short for all the mischief and adventure the pair would plot and carry out together. They had ranged far and wide, exploring Mufasa's kingdom and talking with the animals they met along the way. Every dawn had been the start of a new quest; every day had brought fresh surprises and discoveries. Now she seemed unable to do anything but lie near the sleeping-den and cry for Simba. There was no point sneaking off to the waterhole to taunt the fat crocodile who lurked in its depths; no joy in learning that the fuzzy, striped baby birds who ran comically across her path were ostrich chicks, for she had no one to share her triumphs or boast to of her achievements. 

Nala had not been hunting since the day of Simba's death. Her mother and the other adults were too busy catching enough meat to satisfy the hyaena tribe for training the cub, nor did she feel any desire to stretch her powers. She could not help regretting that last trip with Sarafina; she remembered the furtive way they'd crept off, giving Simba the slip, and how happy she'd felt that it was just the two of them, mother and daughter. But if she had been with Simba in the gorge, their two pairs of ears and eyes might have recognised the danger earlier, giving them a chance to escape. Or else they would both have died - and Nala felt this would have been better than having to live without him. 

Everywhere she looked a memory of Simba hit her and hurt her. He was everywhere - sunning himself across a rock, watching lizards scurry in and out of the cave walls, hiding in the long grass to attack Nala but given away by his twitching tailtip. Yet he was not there, and she missed him so much it was if a part of her own little body were gone. 

Nala was not entirely alone on Pride Rock. The hyaenas were there, lolling about and waiting for the lionesses to bring them a share of _their_ kill. But with the narrow escape from their clutches in the Elephant Graveyard fresh in her memory, Nala could not bring herself to approach them. Two of the females had pups, and the cub watched longingly as the fluffy bundles tumbled and played together. So had she and Simba been - playmates, companions, growing and learning. 

And Scar was there too, of course. The leader of a pride does not hunt for himself; the females do it for him. So the lion king spent his day grooming his mane and sharpening his claws, or most often standing at the summit of Pride Rock surveying his territory. 

He was kind to Nala, in his way. Though he had ignored his nephew as much as possible, he could not fail to notice how inseparable Simba and his friend were. He made a point of offering consoling words and putting his paw around the cub. But Simba had never got on with his uncle, and his dislike had rubbed off on Nala so she too was wary of the black-maned lion. There was something about his touch she did not like, and she wriggled away from his petting. 

Everyone was sorry for her. The lionesses knew how hard grief can hit a child, and even in their own sorrow went out of their way to be kind. The choicest morsels of prey somehow ended up with Nala, and she was never short of licks and cuddles when the pride was home. But nothing could make up for the loss of Simba, and the more they tried to help her the more withdrawn she became. 

As she stared at the dust between her paws, a rustle of blue feathers startled Nala. She looked up to see Zazu, Mufasa's servant and confidant. Zazu it was who would be dispatched to keep an eye on the prince when he roamed, and Simba and Nala had viewed his presence as irritating at best. Now, though, he was a link with the happier past, and Nala forced a smile to welcome him. 

The hornbill perched beside her, smoothing out his plumage with his large orange beak. "Oh Nala, you're skin and bone," he said unhappily. "What wouldn't I give to see you romping over the hills again, so that I had to flap my hardest to keep up!" 

"I'm sorry. I just don't feel like romping any more," Nala apologised. Zazu clicked his beak. "Silly girl, nothing to be sorry for. We all miss Simba - yes, even me," he added, chuckling a little at her surprised look. "Just because I scolded the two of you and corrected your manners, doesn't mean I didn't love young Simba like my own chick. I was just doing my best for him - and, may I say, I failed miserably." 

Nala raised her eyebrows, intrigued in spite of her apathy. "_You_ failed him?"   
"Alas, yes. If I had been keeping an eye on him...if I had seen what was happening and flown for Mufasa...if I had remembered that it was the migration season and warned Simba to be on the lookout...Every day I think of all the things I might have done to save his life." 

"I feel like that too!" Nala confided, and told Zazu of her guilt at being absent the day Simba strayed into the dry river-bed. Unexpectedly, he laid his wing across her shoulders - it was tickly, but comforting - and Nala saw tears in the haughty eyes. 

"My dear, dear child. We mustn't blame ourselves, you know. No one can change the past; not even Rafiki, with all his spells and potions. We must learn from it and move on to the future. You are young, with all your life ahead of you. Though you may never forget Simba, there will be other friends who will grow to be just as important." 

"I -" Nala shook her head in denial, preparing to tell Zazu that nothing could ever make up for Simba. But a shadow dropped in front of her, and the hornbill gave a strangled honk as Scar's body smothered him. 

"Ah, the old cubhood games never fail to amuse!" the lion smirked, releasing his major domo.   
"Your Majesty is a great deal _heavier_ than when he was a cub!" snapped Zazu crossly, only to find a royal claw pressed against his throat.   
"Big mouth for a small birdie, haven't you? Flap off and find out what's happened to those lazy lionesses," Scar purred. "I'm hungry. And I'm sure little Nala could do with a snack." He patted the cub's head, hard enough to flatten her to the ground. 

"Yes, Sire," said the hornbill smartly. Before he took off he winked at Nala and gave a little jerk of his head. Nala knew it meant 'keep your chin up!'. But she was finding it hard to do. 

Sarabi and the others brought back a fine fat waterbuck, to Scar's satisfaction and the hyaenas' joy. Nala nibbled delicately at the liver; she had no appetite, and every mouthful she swallowed threatened to come back up, but she knew it pleased the lionesses to see her eat. When she had eaten as much as she could bear, she pushed the rest aside and slipped off back to her lookout spot. 

Her mother found her there, staring out across the plain as the shadows lengthened. "Nala, we have to talk. I can't watch you wasting away like this. It's as if you don't want to live."   
"I...don't." Nala said woodenly, looking at her paws.   
"You're being very selfish, you know." Sarafina spoke sharply; the first time since the tragedy that she had sounded angry with her cub.   
"No I'm not!" Nala denied the charge automatically.   
"You are. You don't realise how much you mean to the pride, as the only cub." 

Nala started crying again, hopelessly, at this fresh reminder. She had wept so much already that it was incredible she had tears left. Yet somehow more always came. Her mother shook her shoulder. 

"You're our hope, our future. You're precious to Sarabi because you remind her of her son. And you're precious to me - more than you'll ever know." She held her daughter and rocked her. Nala clung, the lioness' tan fur soaking up her tears. "So try to live, Nala, please. Don't leave me," Sarafina begged, holding on tight.   
"I won't, Mom. I promise. But it hurts, every day."   
"It will hurt less, in time. It may always hurt a little, but it will get better, love."   
"How do you _know_?" Nala knew the promises of adults and did not always believe them.   
"Because when I was a little older than you, I was in love with a lion. But he didn't love me back, and he chose a different lioness to be his mate. When he told me, I wanted to die. But I went on with life, because I had to, and one day I found I hadn't thought about the other lion for hours. From then on, every day I missed him less until at last I could think about him without pain, just happy memories. And in time, your father came along and I knew true love." 

"But I don't _want_ to miss Simba less!" 

It was out. Nala had not voiced the thought before; she had not even known it. Yet somewhere in her mind was the idea that if she stopped mourning Simba, if she was happy again, it would be disloyal to her friend's memory. So she sank deeper and deeper into her misery instead of climbing out. 

Sarafina looked at her daughter, comprehension and sorrow mingling in her eyes. "Well, if you just want to torture yourself, there's nothing more I can do for you," she said softly. She turned her back and walked away, head low, leaving Nala alone. She could not help her daughter, but she knew someone who might be able to. 

Rafiki too seemed to have aged greatly since the death of Mufasa, and Sarafina wondered for the first time how old he was as she looked into his sunken eyes. The baboon shaman had been dispensing medicine and wisdom to the pride since her own parents were cubs like Nala. 

"Well, I can prescribe a powdered root for the sleeplessness and berries for the loss of appetite," Rafiki told her, scribbling with his long bony finger on an imaginary pad.   
"That's not what I meant when I said Nala needed your help, and you know it." The lioness bristled. "Please, Rafiki - no games. I really think she might die if she doesn't get over this." Rafiki nodded slowly.   
"Bring her to me at sunrise and I'll see what I can do," he promised.   
"Thank you, Rafiki. I know Mufasa's death has been hard on you, too," Sarafina said humbly. "  
Oh, Mufasa hasn't gone far, don't you worry." The baboon stared for a moment at a spot of empty air beside him, grinning, then took Sarafina's velvet paw in both hands and clasped it. "Don't you worry about a t'ing!" 

Nala was nervous. Though she knew Rafiki to be kind and gentle, she had only been taken to visit him when she was ill and the monkey would make her swallow bitter leaves, or dress her bumps and scratches with smelly liquid that stung. The roof and walls of his dark little hut were hung with shells and bones, nuts and fruit and things Nala could not recognise. He was also mysterious and unpredictable, and had sometimes made her or Simba the butt of one of his pranks. She trailed unwillingly behind her mother. 

"Come on, Nala! Rafiki's not going to bite. He just wants to talk with you."   
"Mm-hmm," Nala grunted unhappily through the spray of white flowers, fat with nectar, which they were bringing as a gift for the shaman. 

Rafiki lolloped across the grass to meet them, swinging himself along with his stick. "Flowers? For me? Oh, you shouldn't have!" He buried his muzzle in the bouquet for a long sniff, then carefully dipped in a finger and sucked the sugary nectar from it. "Too kind! Now Nala, you come with me, and Sarafina - you go! Shoo!" He gave the lioness' rump a shove, and she jumped away looking very undignified. Nala gave a small giggle, and Rafiki turned a brilliant smile upon her. "That's it! Come along now!" 

To Nala's relief they weren't going to his creepy hut, but to the top of Pride Rock, stark and beautiful against the dawn. Despite his age and biped stance she had trouble keeping up with the baboon as he clambered up the steep slope. When he reached the summit he sat cross-legged facing the sun, to all appearances as fresh as when he had begun the climb. Nala, panting and shivering in the chill air, gladly lay down beside him when he beckoned. 

"So what are you and I going to do on this lovely morning?" Nala shrugged listlessly. "OK, I tell you. We're going to put Simba where he belongs."   
"What do you mean, Rafiki? He belongs here, with us...but he's dead." New tears came easily to Nala's eyes, for she was weak and the slightest little thing upset her.   
"Let me show you. Currently, Simba is _here_." Without warning, Rafiki sprang onto the cub's back and put his wiry hands around her neck in a stranglehold. Nala sank to the ground, gasping with shock. 

"Not very comfortable, is it?" The monkey craned over Nala's head and looked at her upside-down, waggling his bushy white eyebrows.   
"N-no!" Nala squeaked. Rafiki let go and squatted beside her.   
"But that's how it feels. Simba is weighing you down and suffocating you. It is time to say, No, Simba! _This_ is where you belong." He held his arms out to Nala, placing one pink palm on her forehead and the other on her chest. "_Here_ and _here_. In your head...and in your heart." 

Nala squinted cross-eyed at his hands. "How?" she asked.   
"Look." Rafiki pointed with his staff, the twin gourds at its tip rattling and sloshing faintly as their hidden contents moved within. "What do you see?" 

The mists were rising and the Pridelands were coming into view. Rosy sparkles came from the shimmering pool where the animals drank. Nala gazed. "I see the water-hole?" she ventured. 

"Not a test, Nala!" chuckled Rafiki, ruffling the smooth fur between her ears. "So, then. The water-hole. And what do you remember about the water-hole?"   
"Nothing special. I go there every day, to drink."   
"Nothing special ever happen there? Think." 

And Nala remembered. She remembered one scorching day when she had lain panting at the water's edge, trailing one paw in the cool flow, too listless to move. Then Simba had come crashing out of the grasses, full of energy despite the heat, bounced on top of his friend, and they rolled together into the water. The bath had revived Nala instantly and the two had played there, splashing and ducking each other, all afternoon. She turned smiling to Rafiki, wondering how she could explain all that to him. 

Rafiki simply nodded. "Good...and how about over there?" 

Night seemed to linger over the place known as the Elephant Graveyard. Long shadows reached out towards Pride Rock, and Nala shuddered. She remembered Simba leading her there, promising a cool adventure. They had been two bold cubs that day, full of their own bravery and cleverness. But the hyaenas' attack had turned their gloating to terror. She recalled slipping down a long spine bone, almost into the wicked mouths of the waiting pack, and Simba rushing back to growl and claw her defence. What a day that had been. What a day. 

"You see?" Rafiki broke into her thoughts. "Simba, he's your friend. He doesn't want to hurt you. He wants you to be happy and playful again." 

"I can't!" Nala wailed. 

"You can. You must. For Simba's sake." 

Nala frowned, not understanding. How could it help Simba if she was happy? But then, how could it help Simba if she was sad? 

"Simba can no longer run and play in the Pridelands. He can no longer smell the scents and taste the tastes. So you must do the work of two cubs. Enjoy your life to the full. Climb and jump, and when you do say, See, Simba! How fast I can climb, how high I can jump! Look at me!" 

"But I'd be talking to myself. Simba's gone, Rafiki. He's not there." 

"Oh, but he is. Let me show you something." The shaman closed his eyes and breathed deeply, his narrow chest swelling. He rocked gently for a moment and hummed tunelessly at the edge of Nala's hearing. Then he became still, and rested for so long that Nala thought he had fallen asleep and wondered if she should prod him with a paw. 

Suddenly the monkey came to life. He nodded and smiled, his eyes following something Nala could not see. "Yes, Mufasa! You are quite right, as always!" He turned back to Nala. "I was talking to my good friend Mufasa." 

"You were pretending," the cub accused. She knew it was wrong to make things up.   
"No, no. What you saw was real. Try it. Close your eyes and think of Simba - not as he was, but _now_." 

Nala shut her eyes tight and summoned up a picture of Simba. He came easily; she saw him everywhere she went. This time he was sitting before her, flicking his tail cheekily. "Hey Simba," Nala said, moving her lips without making a sound.   
"Hi Nala, how's it going?" she made the image reply. But it sounded false, and she knew it was her putting words in her friend's mouth, imagining what he would say. It was useless. The picture dissolved. 

"It will come in time," Rafiki said, drying her tears with his paw. "When two friends are as close as you and Simba, a little thing like death cannot tear them apart. Simba will always be with you, Nala, whether you see him or not." 

He swept his staff in an arc, taking in the whole sky. Orange and crimson around the climbing sun, the higher air was still night-blue and a lone star lingered. Nala stared with him, out into the morning. "Isn't it beautiful, Simba?" she said without thinking, leaning to one side as if resting against someone her own size. She knew just how Simba would react: another day for play and adventure! Now she would treat the new dawn as a fresh start, too. 

Rafiki nodded. "Now you have it! That's the way. And so, back to your mother with you." 

"That's a wonderful idea, Zazu. Thank you," Sarafina was saying. "Oh, here she comes!" She greeted her daughter with a nuzzle, which Nala returned, butting the lioness with her small head. 

"Mom, Zazu, I'm going to do as you said and keep going." She tilted her chin up, looking determined. Her mother embraced her. 

"My darling, I'm proud of you. I know it won't be easy, but we'll all be here for you in the sad times. Zazu, Sarabi, Rafiki - everyone. And Zazu has a job for you, if you'd like to accept it." 

The hornbill cocked his head. "I feel it's time you had more responsibility, Nala. You're growing up fast. So how would you like to come on dawn patrol with me? You can cover the ground while I keep tabs on what's happening up above." Bird and lioness watched anxiously for Nala's reaction, afraid she would shake her head and sigh. Her old enthusiasm had been missing for so long. But Nala smiled. 

"That sounds cool! Thanks Zazu." She laid her paw on her mother's much larger one and whispered "Simba would be jealous." 

Sarafina licked her ears. "On the contrary, I think he'd be very proud of you. I want to start your hunting lessons, too. You're big enough now." 

Zazu cleared his throat impatiently. "No time like the present, if you get my meaning. Nala, we'll sweep East first. Ready?" 

"Ready!" Nala replied, saluting smartly. The hornbill took off, and Nala streaked away across the grass, keeping his winged shadow over her back. As she went Sarafina heard her say: 

"C'mon, Simba, let's go!" 

**_Can you picture what will be  
So limitless and free?..._**

* * *

{Title, starting and ending lyrics taken from 'The End' by The Doors.} 


End file.
